


About A Man and His Dog

by alafaye



Category: Marvel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky asks a question and it leads to a bit of shared past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About A Man and His Dog

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't yet seen Max, it's a great movie about a dog who fought on the front and came home to a less than bright future. Happy ending though, a tear jerker. I suggest you see it. But after watching it, I started wondering about Clint and if, as some fanon says, he did work in the armed forces before he joined SHIELD whether he worked with one of the service dogs. Then this happened. Further disclaimer: I have done zero research and this isn't fully beta'd. Please don't throw rotting fruit at me.

Bucky was watching Clint with narrowed eyes. It was unnerving, but Clint had gotten used to hiding that feeling. Natasha could usually see through it so maybe Bucky could, too, but Clint would rather err on the side of caution than not.

Lucky ran back, dropping a stick at Clint's feet, wagging his tail. Clint shook his head and threw the stick off in some wild direction. Lucky...drooped, and looked at Clint sadly. Rolling his eyes, Clint waved Lucky on and with a low woof, Lucky kept going on the path.

"You don't want him to play fetch?" Bucky asked.

Clint shook his head. "I'm trying to get him to, but all he ever wants me to do is throw the stick in a straight line."

"So you're having a disagreement on how to play fetch?" Bucky asked wryly, smirking.

"Hey, my dog, my rules," Clint replied.

Bucky shrugged. "Whatever."

Lucky was waiting for them at the new bend and Clint couldn't stop himself from looking around. Lucky, head cocked, waited for Clint's signal and then took off again. Bucky was frowning again.

"You got a problem with me and my dog?" Clint asked.

Bucky shook his head. "No, it's just...where'd you learn how to signal him like that?"

Clint frowned. "You know those?"

"My handlers thought I should know so I could try and turn a dog on the troop it was with," Bucky answered after a silent moment.

Clint froze and Lucky, after only a moment's hesitation, ran back. "You came across one, didn't you? Mm, let's see. Somewhere around '97?"

Bucky blinked. "Fuck."

~~~

_Afghanistan, 1995_

Clint looked at the dog. The dog looked back, unimpressed. Clint was just as unimpressed and a bit disinterested. (And a bit...well, being twelve and chased by a K9 police unit leaves an impression. That they had been looking for him because he had been missing rather than wanted for a crime was neither here nor there.)

"Why's the dog here, sir?" Clint asked, remembering at the last minute to add on the 'sir'.

Gregor, the base commander, sighed. "He needs a new handler."

Clint frowned, but said nothing. The dog laid down, looking depressed. Gregor leaned back in his chair. "He's fit to go back out, but at present, there aren't any handlers for our dogs."

"Williams had dogs back home," Clint suggested.

Gregor shook his head. "He's going home after this tour. You used to work animals."

Clint wrinkled his nose, wondered how Gregor had found that out. He made a note to call that Secret Agent guy, Coulson, later. Might be time to get out. "Circus animals, sir, but I didn't actually work with any of them except horses."

"Dogs, horses," Gregor shrugged. "Animals. We're giving you a crash course on being a handler. A week and then you're both back in the field."

Clint's shoulders slumped. "Don't got a choice, huh?"

"We need him out there," Gregor said. "Can't afford to let a good soldier go."

Clint frowned, not liking that because he was sure that Gregor wasn't just talking about the dog, but what could he do? "What's his name?"

"Arrow," Gregor answered with a smirk.

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Sir?"

Gregor shook his head. "Name he came with, honest." He tossed Clint a red rubber toy and the dog, Arrow, lifted his head. "Get to the gym. Johnson is waiting to give you a few quick commands to get you through until tomorrow."

Clint wrinkled his nose, but patted his leg, like he'd seen other people do with dogs. Arrow stared at him, but got up and followed behind him. The gym was practically empty so Johnson was fairly easy to find.

"Don't worry," he said with an easy smile. "We'll get you two working seamlessly in no time."

Clint doubted that, but said nothing. He was sure someone would figure it out eventually.

~~~

Arrow kept edging forward on his belly, an inch with each arrow that Clint let fly. He had been keeping an eye on the dog because the last thing he needed to do was shoot the poor thing, but he was starting to wonder if maybe Arrow thought it was just some stupid game. Were the dogs trained to play fetch? Clint wasn't about to set a precedent.

"Arrow, stay," Clint said.

Arrow kind of flopped into the dirt with a sigh. Clint smirked.

"Barton!"

Clint turned and Thompson waved his hand, beckoning Clint to the command center. Clint nodded and collected his arrows. Arrow watched mournfully and Clint just knew, right then and there, that they were going to be playing fetch with the arrows eventually. It wasn't anything either of them could stop.

"Come on, boy, let's get our marching orders."

Arrow barked excitedly.

~~~

"Good job out there," Gregor told Clint as they passed in a hallway later on that week. "Both of you."

Clint smirked. "All he had to do was train me, sir. It was easy from there on out."

Gregor nodded once. "I knew you could do it."

Clint tried to squash the feeling of pride. He glanced sheepishly at Arrow who gave him what Clint suspected was a canine equivalent of the eye roll. "Yeah, buddy," Clint muttered as they continued to the mess hall.

~~~

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Clint bit out, taping down the open wound on Arrow's flank. "Idiot. Going in there for me. Worth ten of me, you know that? Don't ever do that again."

Arrow whined and nuzzled Clint's arm. Pebbles fell behind them and Clint pulled himself and the dog further under the overhang he'd found. He clamped his hand over Arrow's muzzle to keep him from announcing their location and he held his own breath. 

It was several hours later, when dawn broke, that he allowed them to relax. Arrow had fallen asleep, from the pain he suspected, which was a blessing, and he eyed the terrain, trying to figure out if it was better to wait until dark to move out. It was only because of the darkening wound on Arrow's side that he moved.

~~~

"Barton?" Havens asked in disbelief. "We...ah, let me report you in. Gregor will want to see you right away."

"Medical first," Clint muttered, almost stumbling. "Arrow..."

Havens nodded. "Sure thing. I'll have Gregor meet you there?"

Clint didn't say anything until he got to the medical tent. "Shot in the side. Pulling me out of the line of fire, the idiot."

The nurse blinked, but quickly made the call to the vet on duty.

Gregor debriefed Clint while they waited for Arrow. Clint wouldn't leave until he could with Arrow at his heels.

~~~

"Fucking animal," Clint muttered, wanting to shut his eyes but unable to. He got dizzier if he did. "So much for loyalty. I pull his ass out of the line of fire and drag him back to base to get looked at and what does he do? Leave me to die."

He didn't know how much time had passed since he'd gotten shot or how long it'd been since Arrow had left him, but here he was, bleeding out onto this stupid sand. It hadn't been how he'd thought he'd--car? He debated for all of ten seconds to find cover, but since he was dieing anyway, it would make no difference if the enemy shot him now.

"Barton!" Thompson called. 

A dog whined as the vehicle stopped and doors opened. Clint groaned when he felt Arrow licking his face. "Hey, buddy," Clint whispered. "Sorry, cussed you out for not being loyal. Guess you proved me wrong again." Arrow barked and licked Clint's face again.

"Forgiven, then?" Clint smiled. "Good dog."

~~~

Clint stopped when Arrow did and looked around. "This is not a good place," he said.

Domecko did a quick visual sweep himself. "Yeah, got that feeling, too."

"Arrow, come," Clint called, waving his hand. Arrow, though, turned and looked down the road. He whined.

"That ain't normal," Sei whispered.

"Arrow," Clint called firmly. "To me."

Arrow laid down on the ground and every single person in their unit fell back to the rock that lined the road. "What do you think it is?" Domecko asked.

Sei frowned. "I hear...a whistling?"

Domecko raised an eyebrow. "Dog whistle maybe?"

"Permission to go look?" Clint asked.

"Granted," Domecko answered.

Clint edged along the rock wall until he was close to Arrow. With a whine, Arrow started to crawl toward him, but stopped again. Well, shit.

He looked around the corner and a man in black leaned against the rock wall a few meters away. He narrowed his eyes at Clint and all hell broke loose.

~~~

_Present_

"It was a two fold mission," Bucky whispered.

Clint took a deep breath. "Got the primary objective done. All of us got a mark for that one."

"Sorry," Bucky said.

Lucky leaned against Clint's leg and Clint sucked in a breath. "Wasn't you."

"But man and his dog," Bucky said. "I can be sorry that it happened, right? Like saying you're sorry at a funeral."

Clint tried a half smile. It was way too weak to make a joke. "Yeah. You know, Lucky's name was Arrow?"

Bucky blinked. "Weird."

"My dog that you shot? His name was Arrow, too."

Bucky snorted. "Figures."

"It was Phil's idea of a joke," Clint said. "He kept an eye on me after booting me to the Marines. When he heard about the dog, he made a heavy handed suggestion that I get the dog. I did wonder how Gregor knew about my circus days. Phil thought it would be good for me, the dog. He was right."

"Man tends to be right about a lot," Bucky agreed.

Lucky butted Clint's hand. "Let's go home. Don't know about you, but I need something alcoholic."

Bucky tilted his head. "You still trust me around your dog?"

"Man, I trust you around my apartment," Clint answered. "Dog's kind of the same thing for me."

"Sure," Bucky drawled, but it was light. He knew what Clint actually meant.

Clint smiled then. "And if you ever want to, feel free to come dog sit. Lucky loves the attention."


End file.
